ZIX 







I: tJlSf^ 



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LIB RARY OF CONGR ESS. 

Qljitp.-L- QawW Icr.--... 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



RECITATIONS 



AND 



POEMS 




37^ X.^ 



BY GEORGE HADDON R0WLE8. 



NEW CASTLE, PA. 
1894. 



PS 2.73 6 
,RiS 



COPYRIGHT, 1894, 
BY G. H. ROWLES. 



TO MY SISTEK, 

MRS. EMMA ROWLES-FOSKUM, 

IS THIS LITTLE VOLUME LOVINGLV IXSCKIBED. 



AVarnock Brothers, Printers, 
New Castle, Pa. 



F»FeE:i^.A.OE^. 



HK pieces contained in the first part of this volume 

were written especially for recitation. 
While they are in verse, not much poetic merit is 
claimed for some of them, but especial care has been 
taken to make them suitable for reciting-. 

For the poems I have no apolog-y to offer. 

G. H. R. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/recitationspoemsOOrowl 



oorM rEisiT^s. 



RKCITATIONS. 

My Soldier Lover, 9 

The Old Sing-ing- School, 14 

My Just Crime, •- 16 

I Told You So, ^ 21 

The Traveler's Story, 27 

Bess, the Drunkard's Wife, 29 

How Patrick Won the Prize, 34 

The Lilac's Memories, 37 

How Me an' Sal Eloped, 40 

The Dying- Bandit, 44 

POE)MS. 

The Spirit of the Mists,.- 51 

At Morning-'s Dawn, 54 

My Little Sailor Lover, 55 

The Lig-hts of the City, 57 

Love, the Golden Summer's Gone, 59 

1 Loved Her Long Ag-o, .. 60 

One Little Flower, 61 

Myrtle Moore, 62 

A Summer Memory, 67 

The Music in My Soul, 68 

My Little One, 74 

A Mystic Strain, 75 

When Love Shone In, 78 

A Monument, 79 

The Pond-Lilv, 80 



RECITATIONS. 



MY SOLDIE)R LOVBR. 



This recitation was written to be used with an assistant at the piano or 
violin. At the begrinningr of the fifth verse the "Rustic Reel" is commenced 
very softlj', and is played to the second line of the eleventh verse, rising- louder 
as the "call" is g-iven. In eleventh and twelfth verses an imitation of the beat of 
the drum is plaj'ed ; thirteenth and fourteenth the "Dead March," and at the 
end of the fourteenth, "Nearer My God to Thee" is commenced and played to 
the last verse. 

The roar of the battle has passed awa}' with its horrible 

wail and g-roan, 
And sweet nig"ht tearful!}' seeks, in vain, to silence its 

last low moan. 
While the brave boys harken, with sorrowful hearts, to 

the tones of the wailing- wind, 
And sigh for the tender and loving ones that were left 

on the field behind. 

'Mongst those that await in the old farm-house till the 

peaceful night is over. 
The noblest form of a valorous band is the form of my 

soldier lover. 
Sad and thoughtful his valiant brow as he sighs for the 

true hearts g"one. 
Stern and thoughtful his fearless brow as he thinks of 

the morrow's dawn. 

O, cruel, cruel and ruthless War, what g-riefs fall from 
thy wing ! 

What tears of blood, what hopeless souls I what sorrow- 
ing thou dost bring ! 

O, starry banner, what worship and love from true hearts 
thou dost call ! 

What lives are freely and gladly given that thou mavst 
never fall ! 



10 3Ty SOLDIER' LOVER. 

The farmer maids in the old farm-house, behold with 

admiring- eye 
The few brave forms assembled here while the nig-ht is 

passing- by. 
But there's only one whose loving smile my burning soul 

' can move 
To heig-hts of joy. 'Tis the tender smile of my valiant 

soldier love. 

And the drear night winds, with a woeful dirg-e, speak 
for their bursting- hearts. 

But listen ! There comes a merry strain. Each musing- 
soldier starts 

As the farmer lad on a fiddle rude beg-ins an old-time 
dance. 

But say ! Whence comes that mag-ic power those stern 
hearts to entrance ? 

In breathless silence they listen. Ah, yes, they have 

heard that air before. 
When they went with their loves to the merry dance, 

ere came this cruel war. 
But all those sweet-hearts are far away, save the love 

of wv soldier true, 
And the music bring-s back those tender scenes to the 

sorrowing boys in blue. 

And still tlu'v listen and still the tone of the merry 

fiddle is heard, 
Till the trance is broken ; then up they start and cry 

with one accord : 
"Away with the memories of to-day ! Away with the 

thoughts of war ! 
We'll dance to-night with a merry step with nothing- 

our joys to mar." 



MV SOLDIER LOVER. 11 

" Places all ! " And the blushing- maids to the floor are 

quickly led. 
"Salute your partners! Eight hands round !" Hark 

to the merry tread, 
" Balance all ! " is the happy call. " Alamond left!" 

and " Swing- 
Half way round ! " to the merry sound, while the echoes 

wildly ring. 

All thoughts of war forgotten are and the old house 

rings with pleasure, 
And the rustic maids gaze shyly up as they tread the 

joyful measure. 
With a sweet regard for each tender word, while from 

the throbbing strings 
The merriest tune that ever was heard for a rustic reel 

still rings. 

" Partners swing- ! " What raptures spring to my heart 

as my soldier love 
Tenderl}^ clasps me to his breast as round and round we 

move. 
And on the brow of the soldiers now, no care we can 

discover, 
And the lightest step in the jovial dance is the step of 

m}' graceful lover. 

And the tune still rings from the throbbing strings, and 

the step falls free and light 
To the merr}' call. But see ! What makes those faces 

turn so white ? 
The strain is stopped and the dance is still. But listen ! 

What means that sound ? 
'Tis the roll of the drums and the rattle of guns. 'Tis 

the enemy gathering round. 



12 MV SOLDIER LOVER. 

O, soldiers, flee ! for the foe is here. Fly quickly for 

love and for life. 
But no, they mutter : "For God and right !" and arm 

for the nearingf strife. 
With an echoing- shout for the starry flag they dash 

through the farm-house door. 
Thev have vanished from view. And rumbles loud the 

battle's terrible roar. 

The old farm-house is desolate now, and my heart is 

full of fear. 
And the trembling maids are mute, while moans come 

low to each listening ear. 
And niv soldier brave has gone, has gone where dangers 

round him hover. 
Come back ! for my soul is filled with dread. My lover, 

O my lover ! 

Now the terrible roar has fainter grown. It has almost 

passed away. 
But where is my lover, noble and brave ? Will he 

come to me ? Oh, say. 
My heart is heavy, l)Ut when he comes my soul will be 

light and free. 
But hark ! A step and a solemn strain ! My love is 

returning- to me. 

The door is opened. He comes ! he comes ! And the 

music grows soft and low. 
He is coming -but, (lod, they are bcan'iig \\\\n in with a 

silent step and slow. 
Is he dying ? "Oh. no, not dying-," they said, while 

his pale brow I uncover. 
"Not d3'ing," they said, "not dying," but dead? Oh, 

God, my martyr lover ! 



MY SOLDIER LOVER. 13 

So lately he stepped to the jovial dance with the lig^htest 

and merriest tread. 
La}' his cold form tenderly down, for now he is dead. 

My lover is dead ! 
And the merry air, that so lately rang- through the room 

has changed to one 
That sounds a requiem for my dead, in a low and 

mournful tone. 

O, cruel, cruel, accursed War ! Thou hast taken my love 

away, 
And left me nothing to soothe my soul but a soulless 

piece of clay. 
And the nig-ht winds wail with a woeful dirg-e and the 

nig"ht and the war pass over ; 
But stricken and sorrowful now I sit by my pale and 

silent lover. 



THE OLD SINGING SCHOOL. 



Well I remember the sing^ing school, 

In the little old church upon the hill. 
Those sweet song-s ling-er around my heart ; 

Those merry scenes ; I can see them still. 
Here's where the master stood, so stern, 

With towering- form and haug^hty mien. 
Here was the tenor ; there the bass ; 

Soprano and alto sat between. 

" Pag"e forty-one,'' the master would call, 
And then a rustle of leaves was heard. 

As quickly we'd turn to the merry tune, 
And wait impatiently for the word. 

Out of his pocket the pitch-fork came ; 
First to his mouth ; then to his ear. 

" La, ti, do, sol, me, do, do, sol, do." 

And his tremulous voice rang- loud and clear. 

" Attention all ! Down, left, rig-ht, up. 
Now listen ! One, two, ready, sing- ! " 
And how the music would rise and ring ! 
Soprano and alto, tenor and bass, 
Every part in its proper place. 
Soprano would rise and soar around. 
And the bass roll down to the depths of sound. 
The tenor would swell so hig-h and clear. 
While the alto softly struck the ear. 
To the master's hand with its steady swing-, 
Oh, how the music would rise and ring- ! 



THE OLD SINGING SCHOOL. IS 

Man}^ a lad, with a long-ing" look, 

Glanced shyl}^ over his sing-ing; book 

At some fair maiden, who would return 

The look ; and his heart and face would burn 

With his bashful love, till he lost the place. 

And the master frowned at the tenor or bass. 

"Seventy-four ! hush ! La, ti, do, sol. 

Down, up, one, sing- ! " How the music did roll ! 

And when it was over the rustic lads 

Would anxiously stand by the door and wait. 
And when the lassies came tripping along-. 

In fear and trembling- determine their fate. 
So nervous with waiting- they scarce could speak. 

When the time and the maiden so shy, had come, 
But bashfully stammered with blushing- face 

And extended arm : "May I see you home ? " 

Yes, well I remember the sing-ing- school, 

In the little old church upon the hill. 
Those sweet song's ling-er around my heart ; 

Those merry scenes ; I can see them still. 
Never ag-ain shall we g-ather there. 

But perhaps some day I ma}' hear the sound 
Of that merry music in other worlds. 

With the master and scholars crathered round. 



MY JUST CRIMK. 



I've just awakened from a peaceful sleep ; 
A restful slumber, such as I enjoyed, 
When, weary with the pleasant sports of youth, 
I hi}' my head upon m^- mother's breast. 
Yes, 'twas a peaceful sleep, and by God's throne. 
I would that I had ne'er awaked on earth ! 
An awful memory beg"ins to dawn 
Upon my brain. A memory that tills 
My tortured soul with deathless ag^ony. 
And as I g^aze upon these dark, damp walls 
That rise around me like the g"loom of hell, 
My maddened mind recalls, ah, pitying- g^ods ! 
The scenes that rack my soul with hellish pains. 

I've slept in peace ; but when awake, my soul 
Is so afraid within this g-loomy cell. 
For often times I see a demon's face 
Glare at me from the ceiling" or the walls. 
And oftentimes I hear such mournful moans. 
That till me full of terror. Hush, look there ! 
It's g-laring- from the ceiling- ! there ; it's gfone ! 
Oh, why am I confined within this hell, 
'Mong"st maddening- demons ? Mine was not a crime. 
'Tis true my hand was stained with human blood. 
But he had slain my child. O God, my child ! 
Ye torturing- demons, harken while I tell 
A weary, mournful tale ; and then depart 
And leave me here in peace. I shed his blood, 
But he had slain my child, my little Claire. 



MY JUST CRIME. 17 

'Twas when the winter's wrath had passed away, 
And beautious spring- was robed in g-ayest g-owns, 
That I in rapture by the altar stood 
And wed the tender one my soul adored. 
But ah, the season of our joy was brief ; 
For soon she left her love for brig-hter realms. 
Yet one sweet token^f her love remained; 
A little form that g-rew about my soul 
Until of life it formed the sweetest part. 
For in her face, so beautiful, there shone 
A wondrous likeness to the face so fair. 
That I had worshiped with an endless love. 
Years passed away, and with a tender care 
I g-uarded that sweet child, until she g-rew 
Into a maid as pure as summer morn. 
And each new year that lay upon her brow 
Gave fairer beauties far than did the last. 
And left upon that radiant face a look 
More like the imag-e pictured on my heart. 
And how I loved that sweet and trusting- child ! 
She was my life, my very soul, and how 
I worshipped her forg-etful of my God 
Until she fell by an accursed hand ! 



One evil day a smiling- strang-er came 
Into our home, and with his softened words 
He won a tender place within our hearts. 
And soon the trusting- love of little Claire. 
Ah, evil day that broug-ht him to our door ! 
He won her love, and counting- it as naug-ht, 
Beneath the robes of piety betrayed 
Her trusting- innocence, and foully cast 
Her purity 'neath his accursed tread. 
With bleeding- heart, and brow the hue of death, 
One wretched eve she told to me her shame. 



18 MV jrST CRIME. 

I heard her talc, and when my burning- brain 

Coukl realize that she in whom my soul 

Had fondly placed its trust and fervent love 

Was fallen ; Fallen ! then my brain g-rew wild. 

I raised my hand and by the throne of God, 

I cursed my child and him who her betrayed. 

I cursed her ! God, I cursed my helpless child ! 

And heeded not her prayers so pitiful. 

My pride, my burning- love had made me mad. 

I knew not what I did. I drove her forth. 

I cursed her ; God, and drove her from my door. 



She went ; and oh, the anguish on her brow. 
As with one last imploring- g-lance she turned 
To look for mere}', and no mercy found. 
Then took her way out in the starless nig-ht. 
I drove her forth ! And all that wear}^ nig-ht 
I raved, and cursed the one my soul adored. 
But when the morning- came and reason dawned 
Once more upon my brain, my ardent love 
Returned in thrice it's former power. Then 
I hastened forth to seek my erring- child. 
I soug-ht her, and the spirits led my steps 
Down b}^ a stream that flows beneath the hill ; 
And there I found my child. Upon her brow 
There rested still that wild, imploring- look. 
That I had marked when with a passion wild, 
I cursed her shame and drove her from my door. 
But there she lay upon the g-listening sand, 
The water g-ently flowing- o'er her breast. 
As thoug-h to cleanse her soul from all its shame. 
The one whom I had cursed. The one I loved, 
Lay there before me pale and still and cold. 
I drove her forth ! God ! Drove her forth to die ! 



MY JUST CRIME. 19 

And as I g-azed upon her silent form, 
My soul was filled with such a burning- wrath 
Ag-ainst the strang-er who had her beguiled, 
That by the g-ods of heaven and fiends of hell, 
I swore to neither eat nor sleep nor rest 
By nig-ht or day, until I drank his blood. 
My oath was heard in heaven, and I beg-an 
My restless search. The fates were kind, and soon 
I found him slumbering 'neath a spreading" tree ; 
For 'twas a sultry, summer afternoon. 
I g-rasped my knife and slowly crept along- 
Until I stood beside his upturned breast. 
Gods, how I long-ed to thrust the flashing blade 
Deep into his accursed heart, as there 
He lay unmindful of his awful doom ! 
But oh, I could not, for my hand had ne'er 
Been stained with human blood, nor taken e'en 
The life of any creature wantonl)''. 
Forg-etful of my oath I turned to g-o. 
He stirred ! He woke ! He sprang upon his feet ! 
First looked around in fear, then turned on me 
A look so taunting- and so full of scorn 
That all the demons in my soul cried out 
For veng-eance on the slayer of my child. 
I sprang- upon him ; and my burning- soul 
Was filled with such a wild, relentless wrath 
I knew not what I did. He quaked in fear, 
And, as I raised my g-littering- blade on hig-h, 
I heard the prayer for veng-eance from my child. 
His scornful look was turned to one of dread. 
I heeded not his prayers ; but with the power 
Of all the fiends of hell, I drove the blade 
Rig-ht through the core of his accursed heart. 
He fell, he fell ! The red blood spurted forth. 
I shed his blood, but he had slain my child ; 
My little Claire. 



20 31 Y JUST CRIME. 

Oh, it was not a crime, 
But the}" have shut me in this g-loomy cell, 
Where demons g-lare upon me from the walls, 
And fill me full of terror. There they come ! 
Stand back ! beg-one ! And leave me here in peace. 
Back, back ! I say. Oh, 'tis so g"loomy here 
With naug-ht but demons and the memor}^ 
Of that sweet child, I drove away to death. 
And him whose crimson blood has stained my soul. 
But when I sleep I dream such pleasant dreams. 
Oh, would that I could sleep in peace for aye. 
And ne'er awake to see the flowing" blood 
Of him who slew m}' child. Oh, God, my child ! 



I TOLD YOU SO. 



Down in the midst of a verdant vale, on the shore of a 

rippling- stream, 
There stood a modest and pleasant cot, beneath the 

sun's soft g-leam. 
'Twas there I dwelled for a score of years, and toiled 

from day to day. 
And with the aid of a faithful wife, g-rim want was 

kept away. 

We lived alone ; for no little one was g-iven to cheer 

our lot. 
And if we ever quarreled then, the strife was soon 

forgot. 
For we lived in peace with ourselves and God and many 

a year passed by, 
Ere the faintest shade of a cloud of g-rief rolled over our 

sunny sky. 

But she had a failing-, as women have, of pretending- 

that she had known 
That everything was g'oing to be, as soon as it had 

been done. 
And when I said it was going- to rain and instead it 

would happen to snow, 
She looked at me with a knowing smile and said : "I 

told you so," 



22 / TOLD YOU SO. 

'Twas very seldom 'twas said at first, or else I failed to 

hear, 
For you know when a fellow is fresh in love his senses 

act so queer. 
And I didn't mind when a half-score years of our love 

had passed away, 
Her saying" to me, when the Jersc}' died, " I knew she 

would die someday." 

But year b}^ year her failing" grew as only evils g'row, 
And never a da}^ of life passed by but what she " told 

me so." 
And when I hobbled in one day aleaning upon a stick, 
She cried, "Why, what's the matter, John? I knew 

that mule would kick." 

Then I told her none too gently, how her fault had vexed 

me so. 
" What ! Tired of me already ? I told 3'ou so, 3'ou know. 
Ere we were wed," she sadly said, and it vexed my 

heart so sore 
That I almost feared my love for her was lost forever 

more. 

One drear}', rainy day in June, I took my troubled way 
To my accustomed place of toil to spend a weary da}'. 
In surly mood I left my home as oft I had done before, 
And left a sad and wretched wife to dream her sorrows 
o'er. 

And as I pondered that drear day upon my altered home, 
And wondered where my joys had gone and whence my 

sorrows come. 
The book of the Past was opened wide. I g-lanced its 

pages o'er. 
And my penitent heart saw clear and plain as it never 

had seen before. 



/ TOLD YOU SO, 23 

I hastened home when my toil was done, determined 

ag^ain to find 
The comfort and peace that had left our door, vv^hen 

entered the g-rief of mind. 
The rain still poured from the low'ring" clouds and the 

stream was tossed in foam. 
And I wondered if she were waiting- for me I had left in 

a dreary home. 

I hastened along" by the rag'ing- stream as oft I had done 
before, 

But suddenly paused. For I caug-ht the sound of a dis- 
tant, ominous roar. 

I listened a moment ; my heart stood still with a cold 
and deathly dread. 

For the dam had broke, and the faintest hope in my 
shivering bosom fled. 

Nearer and nearer the sound came on, till, like an evil 
dream, 

A mountain wave with a mig-hty rush came bellowing" 
down the stream. 

And riding" upon its rag-ing" crest, bedimmed b}^ the 
spray and foam, 

I saw the wreck of a modest cot that had been m}^ pleas- 
ant home. 

Oh, when the trials of life are sore, were it not for a 

hidden power. 
The bleeding spirit would leave its clay in that sad 

and awful hour. 
With frozen heart I wandered on as one who walks in 

sleep, 
'Till I saw in the place of wife and home, a torrent wild 

and deep. 



24 / TOLD YOU SO. 

And as the thoughts of regret and grief were tearing 

my heart strings so, 
The book of the Past was opened wide and I read the 

long ago. 
'Twas a merry tale of a careless youth and a maid as 

pure as morn, 
With never a thought of a coming day of peace and 

hope forlorn. 

It seemed to me such a little time since first my eyes 

beheld 
The tender form of a lovel}' maid, and how my heart 

had swelled 
And burned with a feeling so sweet and strange I never 

had known before, 
And it seemed I was walking the golden streets, with 

an angel hov'ring o'er. 

How the time passed by as I won the love of that tender, 

trusting heart ! 
And each soft look of trust and love would sweetest of 

joys impart. 
And one blest eve in the balmy June, beneath the soft 

moon shine. 
In tend'rest tones she told my heart her love forever was 

mine. 

Oh, then as I clasped close to my heart that clinging, 

fluttering form, 
And felt entwining about my neck her arms so soft and 

warm. 
As I kissed those lips as her head bent low and gazed in 

her lovelit e^es. 
The skies drew near, and my soul leaped far into realms 

of paradise. 



/ TOLD YOU SO. 25 

The time seemed short as it had been sweet till I took 
my love away 

To the pleasant cottag^e beside the stream that chat- 
tered so free and g'ay. 

And the birds made music among* the boughs and the 
flowers in beauty g"lowed, 

And it seemed that ever our home would be a blessed 
and brig-ht abode. 

Oh, is it a hideous, hollow dream that's racking- my 

weary brain ? 
And isn't my home beside the stream with a sweet face 

at the pane ? 
My God, 'tis true ! My home has g-ona on the breast of 

the rag-ing" wave, 
And my wife, my sweet and tender love, lies low in a 

damp, cold g^rave. 

Accursed stream, with thy fiendish roar ! Give back 

my love to me. 
She is cold and wet in thy hard embrace; she has no love 

for thee. 
In these roug-h arms she is want to lie, on this warm 

bosom sleep. 
Thou hast hidden my love from my longing- soul in a 

g"rave so dark and deep. 

Come back, come back to my yearning" heart ! till my sins 

are all forgiven, 
And while my life on the earth shall last I'll live forj^ou 

and heaven. 
Come back ! come back ! for the world is dark when my 

love has g-one awa}^ ! 
But hark! "O John, the house is g-one! I knew it 

would g-o some day ! " 



26 / TOLD YOU SO. 

And there was my wife who had just returned from a 

friendly call, and seen 
The roaring- torrent deep and wide where our modest 

home had been. 
And we vowed that the strife our hearts had known 

should follow our ruined home. 
And the onl}^ blossom our hearts now bear is love'^s sweet 

scented bloom. 



THi: TRAVKLKR'S STORY. 



The nig-ht was dark and dreary ; and the wind, with 
mournful moan, 

Swept throug-h the trees. I hastened on, a strang-er 
and alone, 

Seeking- a place to rest my head, no shelter seeming- 
nigh, 

When suddenly I faintly heard a wild, despairing cry. 

I paused in mute astonishment ; but for a moment heard 
Naug-ht but the bare trees wailing as the wind their 

branches stirred. 
I listened. Then it came again. 'Twas not a wild 

beast's yelp. 
My blood run cold as I heard the cry, " I'm dying! 

Murder ! Help ! " 

I hastened toward the sound and soon I saw a ray of 

lig-ht. 
And then an old log school house dimly came upon my 

sig-ht. 
I hurried up beside it, softly listening at the door, 
And heard within an awful thing that chilled my 

bosom's core. 

Hush ! hear that harsh and cruel voice, "Don't struggle; 

you are fast. 
I long have sought and sworn to kill you, now you'r 

mine at last." 
And listen to that pleading voice ; it is a woman's 

prayer. 
"Have mercy, mercy! Oh, I pray, and spare my life. 

Oh, spare ! " 



28 THE TRAVELER'S STORY. 

"Talk not of mercy ; I'll g-ive you none; 'tis vain to 

plead or cry. 
I'll have reveng-e. When I count three, then you shall 

surely die." 
My limbs are helpless ; I cannot move as I trembling" 

hear it all. 
Hush ! "One, two, three," a pistol shot, a g^roan, and 

a heavy fall. 

Then all was still. I drag-g-ed myself to a chink where 

the lig-ht shone throug-h. 
Dreading" to see the g"ory sig^ht mj^ eyes would surely 

view. 
Weak and treml>ling- I looked, and saw — What did I see, 

you say ? 
Wh}^ only a local opera troup rehearsing" a trag"ic play. 



BBSS, THK DRUNKARD'S WIPD. 



Oh, joyfully the marriag^e bells chime through the sum- 
mer nig"ht, 

And careless faces g^low beneath the candle's gfolden 
light ; 

And fairest" flowers shed abroad their odors rich and 
rare, 

As merrily the music chimes its soft and mellow air. 

'Mong-st all the forms that liarken unto beauty's tender 

call. 
Here shines from out a wreath of gold, the fairest face 

of all. 
And looks of fondest love shine out from eyes of softest 

blue. 
And smiles of joy reflect a soul as pure as falling snow. 

Well may sweet Bess be happy, and well may her heart 

be light ! 
The noblest of the village youths she is to wed to-night. 
She, little Bess, the motherless, whose life has all been 

sadness. 
To wed young Claude ; why, 'tis enough to fill her heart 

with gladness. 

Young Claude Belore, so nobly good ; so gallant and so 

true ; 
Whose love came like a golden gleam, and shining 

through and through 
The midnight darkness of her life, made all as fair as 

day. 
No wonder Bess, the motherless, is happy now and ga.y. 



30 BESS, THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE. 

But listen ! now the wedding- march swells softl}- on the 
air. 

And see the eag-er, sparkling- eyes turned quickh* toward 
the stair 

Where shall be seen the g-allant youth in all his noble 
pride, 

Descend and at the altar stand, to take his trembling- 
bride. 

How eag-erly the wedding- g-uests within the bridal hall. 
Await their coming-. Hark I they hear a footstep's 

g-entle fall. 
They come ! they come ! And toward the altar trend 

the joyful pair, 
While merrily the wedding" march chimes forth its 

g-ayest air. 

And soon the black-robed minister has said in solemn 

tone. 
Those words of sweetness, heaven-born, that join two 

souls in one. 
And when 'tis over, brig-hter still joy shines from 

sparkling- eyes. 
And softer music ring-s until it seems a paradise. 



How fast the years have rolled around ! How swift the 

seasons sped ! 
Years, many years have passed away since little Bess 

was wed. 
That happy day has g-one for aye. The wedding- march 

is o'er. 
That loving- heart, then full of joy, is bleeding- now and 

sore. 



BESS, THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE. 31 

Come, follow me into a home this dark and bitter nig"ht. 
For throug-h the dark and ang-ry clouds shines not one 

ra}^ of lig-ht. 
Now, see within that wretched form with eyes so bleared 

and wild, 
And mark the shivering" woman there, emd look upon 

the child ! 



But now a chord of music comes. That soft and mourn- 
ful strain 

Seems coming- from the rag^ing* storm that beats against 
the pane. 

In pleading- tones speaks forth a heart that sin has 
soug-ht to crush ; 

It is the voice of little Bess so softly pleading ; Hush ! 
(" Don't g-o out to-nig-ht, my darling-," etc.) 



Ah, yes, that blear-eyed form is he to whom her heart 

was wed. 
But now his soul is black with sin ; his noble pride is 

dead. 
A demon dwells within his soul, so filthy and defiled. 
He heedeth not his pleading- wife nor little Pearl, the 

child. 



Out in the dreary, dreary nig-ht that wretched form has 

g-one, 
And in their tears and sorrow left his wife and child 

alone. 
And Bess, while bitter tears fall fast upon each golden 

curl. 
Holds tightly to her burning- heart the form of little 

Pearl. 



32 BESS, THE DRUx\'KARLrS WIFE. 

And long- she sits there weeping-, till she can no longer 

weep, 
And then unto her bleeding heart there comes a troubled 

sleep. 
And little Pearl, grown wear}-, waiting for a step to 

come, 
Starts trembling through the dreary night, to bring her 

father home. 



The black walls of the "Eagle's Nest,'' that vile 

abode of sin 
Where souls are made more fit for hell, resound the 

mirth and din 
Of bloated forms assembled, while the coarse jest passes 

round. 
And brutal oaths and drunken laughter through the 

room resound. 

But in the midst of mirth and din, they pause in awe ; 

for see, 
A little child walks slowly in. And hushed is the noisy 

spree. 
As in a trembling, pleading tone she speaks her father's 

name. 
And looks up in a blushing face, so full of guilt and 

shame. 

Ah, e'en the demon in his soul could not resist that look. 
And toward the door, with little Pearl, his tot'ring way 

he took. 
A mocking laugh fell on his ear, and lips with filth 

defiled. 
In taunting tones and shameless speech, defamed his 

little child. 



B£:SS, THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE. 33 

With burning- heart and maddened brain he turned, and 

quickly aimed 
A mig"hty blow at him whose tong-ue her innocence 

defamed. 
But look ! the little child spring's forth as thoug-h to 

stay the blow ! 
And God, the heavy fist falls full upon her tender brow ! 



Within the gloomy home of Bess, this dark and dreary 

night, 
Where once was joy and love, is seen a sad and woeful 

sig-ht. 
Two stricken forms bend o'er a couch, while soft the 

winds are sig-hing-, 
To catch the last fond look of love ; for little Pearl is 

dying-. 

How pale her brow ! How low her breath comes to each 

list'ning- ear ! 
Her breast scarce heaves. Ah, weeping- ones, grim 

. death is very near. 
But stay ! Her blue eyes open wide ! Push back that 

golden curl. 
Be silent ! See her moving lips ! Hush ! hark to little 

Pearl. 

(" I'm going home, no more to roam," etc.) 

The lips are still. The song has ceased. The echoes 

all are fled. 
That snowy breast has ceased to beat, and little Pearl is 

dead. • 
Oh, weep for him whose sins accurst have ruined home 

and life. 
And mourn for that torn, bleeding- soul ; for Bess, the 

drunkard's wife. 



HOW PATRICK WON THE) PRIZK. 



The lines bej^'-iuiiing- with song', "Diddle-de-uni," etc., are filled out in imila- 
tioti of the sound of a saw. 



The story -telling- club, where deeds are told of sin and 

g-lory, 
Put up a prize one evening- for the biggest truthful story. 
And Patrick, humbly listening- until the rest were done, 
Said, " Sure an' OiVe g-ot a shtory that will bate thim 

iv'ry one. 

"It came aboot laslit shpring a year. 'Twas whin meself 

an' Bones, 
(Bones he's a woolly naygur) cut wood for Mister Jones. 
We'd dhropped a moighty big tree upon a shlopin' hill. 
An' Bones an' me we sot to worruk to saw it, wid a will. 

"Bones he had the lower side, an' always whin he'd 

worruk 
He'd be a singin', while the ould saw shlid through wid 

a jerrk. 

' Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o. 

Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o. ' — 

"'Be kecrful, me bye,' I tould him whin his song 

machine was shtill, 
' Whin the log comes off she'll maybe shtart arollin' 

down the hill,' 

But, ' Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o. 

Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o.' Crash ! ! 



HOW PATRICK WON THE PRIZE. 35 

" Shplit, crash ! an' a shplinter came an' shtruck me in 

the oye. 
An' whin Oi pulled him out an' looked, no log- nor Bones 

was noig-h. 
The log" had rolled way down the hill, but the nayg-ur 

could not be found. 
Till Oi saw the top of a nayg"ur-head squoze away down 

in the g-round. 



"Divil a bit but the naygur-head, an' Oi took my peck, 

ye know, 
To dig" it out an' see if the naygur was hang^in' on below. 
' Big- black nayg-ur head in the ground. Dig- him out, 

dig" him out ! hah ! 
Rest of the nayg-ur he can't be found. Dig- him out, dig- 

him out. hah \\ 



"Oi dug- it out. There was notliin' there but the nayg-ur 

head ; that's so. 
You think that maybe the body had g-one wid the sowl 

on down below ? 
Oi thoug-ht so naythur an' looked around, athinkin' Oi 

moig-ht see 
A body an' legs. An' there they lay, back of a big 

shtraight tree. 

" Oi picked up the naygur head an' tossed it over beside 

the tree. 
Oi thought the remains of the naygur ought to be close 

together, ye see. 
An' the quarest thing did happen. It's thrue as Oi hope 

for grace. 
That bloody naygur got up an' walked, wid his head in 

its proper place. 



36 HO IV PATRICK WON THE PRIZE. 

" Oi wasn't dramin'. He came an' took the saw an' 

begfun to worrk, 
Singin' as though there had nothin' occurred as he shlid 

her through wid a jerrk, 

' Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o. • 

Diddle-de-um-de-i-de-o. -' " 

The story was ended ; the club cried out : " You've won 

if you prove its true." 
" It's provin' yez're afther," said Pat. " Begorra, that 

same Oi can asily do. 
To lay down an' rest behind the tree, the lazy naygur 

had gone. 
An' what of the naygur head ? Och, begorra ! 'Twas a 

big round naygur-head stone." 



THE LILAC'S MKMORIDS. 



A talkin' of the posies, a growin' round the yard ; 
There ain't a posy growin' that I don't jest regard 
With a sorter tender feelin', fur I love 'em all, ye see. 
But the sweet, old-fashioned lilac is 'specially fur me. 

Many a purtier* posy ; yes. Sweeter ; yes agin, 

But they can't tech my feelin's like the sweet old lilac 

kin. 
Why jest a sprig of blossoms; jest one sweet-scented spray 
To tell me all its mem'ries would take a summer day. 

Some of 'em would be funny, an' make me sorter glad ; 
Some of the lilac's stories. An' some 'ud make me sad. 
To me it is the sweetest that grows out of the ground. 
Ah, no, I don't git lonesome when there's any lilacs round. 

A bush of them was growin' jest beside the door. 
The form that used to tend 'em, I don't see no more. 
But it sorter sets me laughin', recallin' long ago. 
One night I hid there, listenin' to sister and her beau. 

Was too wee a codger to know it wasn't right. 

And counted all the kisses — most all, perhaps not quite. 

Till sister said: "No more, sir. How many have I 

given ? " 
And 'fore I thought I hollered: "That there'n makes 

eleven." 

You oughter seen them jumpin' ; an' war'nt sister mad ? 
Next day when father heard it, 'twas me felt ruther sad. 
One of them same branches was the cause of all my 

gloom. 
But sister's gone. The lilacs now bend above her tomb. 



38 THE LILACS MEMORIES. i 

They tell another story. When more of life was g-one 
I g-ot into some trouble an' left fur parts unknown. 
An' didn't write a scribble fur two long- years, an' then 
Back toward home I started to see my mother again. 

'Twas the time o' year fur lilacs the night I reached my 

home, 
An' the bush that stood by the doorway was heavy lade 

with bloom. 
Had n't tole her I was comin', to see how s'prised she'd 

be, 
An hid behind the lilacs to see what I could see. 

That old bush smelt far sweeter than ever it had be- 
fore. 

When I saw that form, so feeble, as I glanced thro' the 
open door. 

Her brow was deeply furrowed with sorrow an' toil an' 
pain. 

" An' look at the tears," I muttered. " She's singin' a 
soft refrain. 

"She looks as tho' some sorrow her soul was tryin' to 

crush. 
Has she thought of her boy ? I wonder. What song is 

she murmuring ? Hush ! " 

(" Where is my wandering- boy to-night ? " etc.) 

"Oh, mother, mother," I shouted, an' sprung inside the 

door 
An' throwed my arms around her an' waited to hear no 

more. 

You oug-hter seen the teardrops run down that furrowed 

cheek. 
Why, it was 'most a minit 'fore either of us could speak. 



THE LILACS MEMORIES. 39 

V 

An' then — oh, pshaw ! they bother my eyes to think of it 

yet. 
But the smell of them old lilacs that night, I'll not for- 

g-et. 

That dear old form soon started to her eternal home. 
But ev'ry spring", some mornin', soon as the lilacs bloom, 
I've laid the sweetest bunches of them beside the door 
Upon her g-rave, so silent, an' will till life is o'er. 

So talkin' of the posies, a bloomin' round the yard, 
There ain't no posy g-rowin' that I don't jest reg^ard 
With a sorter tender feeling-', fur I love 'em all, you 

see. 
But the sweet, old fashioned lilac is specially fur me. 



HOW ME AN' SAL ELOPE^D. 



We'd beg-g"ed an' beg-g-ed an' pleaded fur to g-it her pa's 

consent, 
But he was sot ag-in it, an' he never would relent. 
So at last we jest decided that it was no use to hope, 
An' laid our plans, some moonless night to silently 

elope. 

I alius was opposed to sech ; so was my sweetheart, Sal. 
But ye see, when a feller's dead in love, he's bound to 

have his g"al 
E'en thoug-hold "split-hoof" should oppose instead of a 

stubborn dad. 
An' nothing but walls of stone ken keep a lass from her 

lover lad. 

Well, the night arriv', an' with flutterin' heart I crept, 

when all was still, 
Out of my room and down the stairs ; then over acrost 

the hill, 
Snuggly drest in my Sunday best ; with a nice little 

speech all ready, 
So when I stood 'neath her winder sill I could whisper it 

to my lady. 

An' wasn't it dark ? whew ! Egypt's darkness wasn't to 

be compared. 
You never seed sech a dark old night ; but then I wasn't 

scared 
Till I reached her house an' thought of her dorg. Then 

I begun to shake, 
But I hoped that he was fast asleep, an' maybe he 

wouldn't awake. 



HOW ME AN' SAL ELOPED. 41 

Well, I stood 'neath her winder an' whispered low, but 

heard no answerin' sound. 
"Hi Sal, Hist, Hist! Beg-osh," sez I, " She's furg-ot I 

was comin' round. 
Hi Sal, Hi Sal ! wh, wh ! Hist, Hist ! " My bones was 

beg-innin' to shake ; 
For I's feared my sweetheart was fast asleep an' the 

blamed old dorg- awake. 

"Hi Sal! wh, wh ! " I whispered ag-ain an' then I 

heard a sound. 
But it wasn't her ; it came from behind and was creepin' 

along the g-round. 
An' didn't I shake and shiver then ? I g-uess I did, fur 

I knew 
If it wasn't her dad 'twas the durned old dog- ; I's feared 

he was hungry too. 

But he didn't come any nearer just then, an' all was quiet 
once more. 

Till from Sal's winder I heard the sound of a bellerin' fe- 
male snore. 

"She's asleep," sez I. "I must waken her up fur that 
is my only chance. 

If I start to run that measly dorg- will g-rab fur the seat 
of my pants." 

So I reached fur a pebble an' g-ently threw it ag-ain the 

winder pane, 
And the snore cut short with a horrible snort ; I listened 

a moment, and then, 
I heard her movin' about the room ; an' soon a voice 

said low, 
"Is it you, dear John ? I fell asleep awaitin'; you was so 

slow." 



42 HOW ME AN' SAL ELOPED. 

That made me mad ; but I calmly saj^s, " Hurry up ! 'tis 

time we's gone." 
"Just wait ; " says she; " What fur ? " says I. " Till I 

g-et my fixin's on." 
"O pshaw!" says I, "Let 3'our fixin's g-o. I'm afraid that 

something- — O-u-u ! 
What's that ?" Fur I heard an awful growl ; 'twas coni- 

in' nearer too. 



"Good dorg, old fellow!" I trembling said, I was too 

bad scared to howl. 
" Be quick Sal ! yh, come here old dog ! " He answered 

with a growl. 
An' didn't I wish I had an ax to split his ugly snoot ? 
" What is it, John ? " "Come here, old dog !" "Oh, 3'ou 

nasty brute ! " 

Whew ! wasn't I in a pickle then ; I'd stuck on an awful 

burr; 
You see when I spoke to that measly dorg, she thought I 

was speakin' to her. 
Then I tried my speech. "Sweet maiden fair, with voice 

like a golden flute. 
And face like a — (Nice old dog)" — "Shut up ! You big 

insultin' brute." 



I was all in a flutter, but hastened to say, " I-I meant 

no offense — ( Old dog ! ) — " 
" Shet up," sa3's she, "or I'll call m^^ pap an' he'll knock 

you flater'n a log." 
"Just listen a moment sweet maid, with eyes like tliesk}- 

where the meteors shoot. 
For I love no other — ( Old dog ! ) like you ! " — "Oh, j^ou 

dirt}' brute ! 



HO IV ME AN' SAL ELOPED. 43 

I'll call my pa !" " No-no-no don't. Call off your dorg^," 

says I- 
Then I g-ot rattled; " D-doll off your corg^, and come and 

let us fly." 
" You're drunk," sa3^s she, " No, no, but I'm sheered — 

( Dood g"og- ) " I stammered, and then 
She called fur her pa, an' like a flash I went flyin down 

the lane. 

Well I g"ot home, fur a fellow can run when fur life he 

has half a chance. 
But the old dog- g^ot a terrible chunk of me an' my Sun- 
day pants. 
An' I soon g-ot married, but not to her. I had more 

sense I'm hopin' ; 
I married my wife in open da}^ ; I'd had enoug-h elopin'. 



THE DYING BANDIT. 



The day had spent its lig-ht ; and darkness fell 

To hide the evil earth from heaven's view. 

The g-leaming- stars were veiled by ang^ry clouds, 

That hung-, like walls of blackness from the skies. 

But now and then would open and let throug"h 

A flash of dazzling- lig-ht ; then quickly close 

As thoug-h to shut the wrathful skies from view 

While loud the}^ spoke, in awful tones, that made 

The rocks and mountains tremble in their fear. 

The torrent, dashing- down the narrow g-org-e, 

Would roar in wrath when paused the thunder's tones. 

And throug-h the g-roaning- trees was heard the wind 

As loud it shrieked and howled. 

Among the rocks 
Is seen a narrow pathway leading- back 
Beneath the mountain side. And far within 
Is scarcely visible, a g-leam of lig-ht. 
Come, let us follow it and see who dwells 
In solitude beneath the mountain slope. 
On throug-h the dark, damp way, while fainter grows 
The roaring- of the torrent and the storm. 
Till soon is seen whence comes the gleaming- lig-ht. 
Within a chamber there beneath the rocks. 
Is g-rouped a band of roug-h and wretched men 
Around a couch, so rude and hard, where lays 
The form of one more hardened than the rest, 
Nig-h unto death. For listen to his breath 
As hard it comes in short and hurried g-asps. 
Ah, see ! that crimson spot upon his brow 
So deeply marked by wretchedness and sin, 



THE DYING BANDIT. 45 

Tells why he lies so calm and quiet there. 
And all those wretched forms in silence stand 
Within the shimmering- lig-ht ; while faint is heard 
The smothered roar of waters washing- down 
The mountain side, and now and then the sound 
Of thunder speaking forth in awful tones. 



But look ! he rises ! now he stands erect. 
His wild eyes glaring and his face so white, 
Save where the crimson spot is on his brow. 
So ghastly does he look as there he stands 
Within the fading- light, that those vile forms 
Draw back in terror ; and they gaze in awe 
Upon him, while in slow and solemn tones 
He speaks as to the dead. 



' ' Why am I here ? 
Where is that aged form with snowy locks. 
That spoke with trembling voice and called me son ? 
Ah, there she lies." He cried, as throug-h his brain 
There rushed a vision of his early home. 
" Why does she lie so still and silent there ? 
Hush ! listen ! they say she's going to die. 
Ah, see that snowy angel hov'ring o'er 
The aged, feeble form ! Now see him stoop 
As though to take her in his arms. But no, 
The subtle cord's not severed yet that binds 
Her life to earth. Again he stoops, but hark ! 
Whence comes that strain of music, soft and sweet, 
As when the angels touch their harps of gold ? 
Nearer it comes and nearer yet. Oh see 
The glorious light that fills the room, and hear 
The voices of the angels ! There ! she's gone. 
The heavenly troup has carried her away." 



46 THE DYING BANDIT. 

And as he stands and g-azes toward the skies 

Where dwells that aged form, a smile is seen 

Upon his livid face ; and shuddering- there, 

His mates stand silent. Like the tones of death, 

Is heard the river's smothered roar. But now 

Another mem'ry fills his maddened brain. 

" Be silent now," he whispers, "till they come. 

Rig-ht here behind this rock we'll strike the blow. 

They're coming-. Listen ! Now be ready, quick ! 

Spare not a sing-le life within the coach. 

They see us. Look ! Be quick my men ! now out ! 

Draw forth the crimson blood from every heart. 

Ha, see them fall ! Ha, ha ! their g-old is ours. 

Another ! There, once more ! — Great God my head ! 

They've sent a bullet crashing- throug-h my brain." 

And then ag-ain is seen that g-laring- look 

As painfully he feels his crimson brow. 

And as those wretched forms behold him there, 

And listen to his memories of the past, 

Within each heart there comes a thoug-ht of home 

And loved ones it had known, long-, long- ag-o. 

But soon those thoug-hts have vanished, and ag-ain 

They g-aze upon their leader's bleeding- brow, 

For reason's lig-ht is shining- in his eyes. 

And now in mystic, mournful tones he speaks. 

"I thoug-ht I saw ag-ain my childhood home. 

And I was there, a heedless, happy boy. 

And with a brother and a sister fair, 

I knelt beside a g-entle mother's knee. 

Ah, now that mother dwells beyond the skies. 

Whence she was carried by an ang-el band. 

That sister sleeps in silence 'neath the sod. 

While tears of g-ratitudc forever fall 

Upon the daisies bending- o'er her brow. 

That brother, oh, a noble soul was he, 



THE DYING BANDIT. 47 

Gave up his life upon the battle field, 
And softly sleeps within an honored grave. 
Ah, pards, they died a noble, worthy death, 
And ang-els smiled upon them in that hour. 
But here is one, kind heaven pity him ! 
Who'll meet his Maker with a crimson heart. 
They died an honored death ! But I, ah God ! 
Am dying- with a curse upon my head. 
Without a tear, despised and shunned by all. 
Am dying-, dying like the vilest worm." 

A sing-le nioment then he stands erect. 
The damp of death fast g-athering on his brow. 
Then with an awful g-roan his wretched form 
Falls back upon its couch, its spirit gone 
To dwell in torment for the sins of earth. 
And silently those roug-h men g-atlier round. 
And cover o'er that lifeless mould of clay. 
While faint the torrent on the mountain side. 
Sounds solemnly the dirg-es of the lost. 



POEMS. 



THE) SPIRIT OF THE} MISTS. 

The sun in his g-lory was slowly descending", 
Aweary with labor and toil never ending-, 

As, burdened with g-rief and with heart aching sore, 
I wandered alone by the shore of the river 
Where oft I had roamed with a form that would never 
Ag-ain view its waters, as restless, forever 

They rolled o'er the rocks with a musical roar. 
For like the white mists that arise from the river. 

That form disappeared and I saw it no more. 

The flowers of summer their sweetness were spilling- 
Upon the calm breezes, while music was filling- 

My ears, from the stream flowing- fast on its way. 
In my soul there was strife; for a brig-htHope was burning- 
And striving- to vanquish my woe with its yearning- ; 
But useless it seemed, for my sorrows, returning-, 

Poured into my soul and it seemed they would stay. 
And the flame of my Hope flickered low in its burning-, 

As though it were helplessl}^ dying- away. 

And that dreamy eve, as I wearily wandered 
Alone by the shore of the river, and pondered 

Upon the deep sorrows my sore heart had known, 
I wondered if she had departed, and striven 
To tell Him my Hope who abideth in heaven ; 
I wondered aloud ; but no answer was g-iven 

Till low on my ear fell a mystical moan. 
I looked in amazement, and wondered if heaven 

Or hell had responded and uttered that g-roan. 

A moment I looked, but my terrified vision 
Beheld nothing- there, and I laug-hed in derision, 

And murmured, " My mind is bewildered with woe." 



52 THE SPIRIT OF THE MISTS. 

But out where a billow was laug'hing" and pla3nng-, 
A white speck of foam on its breast was delaying". 
And as I beheld it there, swing^ing" and swaying, 

It ceased ; and I heard a g-roan, solemn and low. 
And then it continued its laughing- and playing- 

As though it had ceased but to utter my woe.- 

I wondered in awe at a scene so surprising-, 
When lo ! the white speck from the river uprising-, 

Responded ag-ain with a groan of despair. 
Then g-rowing- still larg-er, that foam on the river 
Rose hig-her, while I could but shudder and shiver. 
Till it stood on the stream with a quake and a quiver 

Like a specter enshrouded in mists in its lair. 
And it stood there in silence, save when it would quiver 

And utter a moan or a g-roan of despair. 

I viewed in amazement the marvelous being- 
That only a moment succeeded in freeing- 

My soul from the thoug-hts of its Hope and its woe. 
For like the return of the tide of the ocean. 
They rushed in my soul with their strife and commotion. 
Till I thought that the one of my earthly devotion 

Must be with my Hope at the Throne, kneeling- low. 
But the form on the stream with mysterious motion, 

Replied with a g-roan and I knew 'twas not so. 

" Then where is she now ? the fair form who departed 
To carry my Hope into heaven. They started 

Tog-ether. I thoug-ht that tog-ether they'd g-o. 
And where is my Hope ?" I proceeded, despairing, 
"Now tell me, foul spirit, if they are rot sharing- 
A blessed abode, and celestial robes wearing ? " 

With hopeless despair I besought him to know. 
He uttered a groan that was wild and despairing, 

And lo, his pale arm slowly pointed below. 



THE SPIRIT OF THE MISTS. S3 

" Not so, thou foul spirit," I cried in wild terror, 
" She dwellest not there for soul never was fairer 

Than was the white soul of the one who has flown. 
No, she is not there, but my Hope — have they parted? 
They left me tog-ether ! "• I cried, broken hearted, 
" Where is she ? " and slowly his spectral arm started 

And pointed above to the heavenly throne. 
And into my soul a brig-ht g-learn swiftly darted. 

As thoug-h it were sent from the one who had flown. 

" And has my lost Hope into realms yet arriven 
Where reig-neth the Ruler eternal of heaven ? 

I pray you g-ive answer my fears to dispell." 
I waited with weary impatience ; scarce daring- 
To g-aze on the form on the river, for fearing- 
An evil response ; but it stood there f orbearing- 

To move ; and once more I implored it to tell. 
" My Hope has gone whither? foul spirit," despairing- 

I cried. And his hand quickly pointed to hell. 

And as I beheld that arm surely descending-, 
I felt the cold fingers my very soul rending-. 

And filling- my heart with unfathom'ble woe. 
And his g-roans with the roar of the river were blended, 
As standing- there still with a pale arm extended 
To hell and to heaven, as thoug-h life were ended 

He beckoned me whither my sad soul would g-o. 
He stood there as thoug-h I had not comprehended 

The darkness and depths of my infinite woe. 

" To hell and to heaven !" I muttered, scarce knowing- 
The cause of the flood of despair that was flowing- 
Unceasing-, resistless to burden my soul. 
" And standing- between is a soul, that is riven 
As when a frail bark on a rock-reef is driven. 



54 AT MORNING'S DAWN. 

Beckoned to hell while 'tis beckoned to heaven ; 

Bearing- the burdens that into it roll. 
Caring- not whither 'tis drawn or 'tis driven. 

Knowing- not, caring- not where is its g-oal." 

And still that form stands every night on the billow, 
With groans harsh and g-rating and moans soft and mellow 

From my Hope far below and my love upon hig-h. 
Each strives for my soul with an endless endeavor. 
While those pointing- arms on the stream beckon ever. 
I see not and care not which cord I shall sever. 

Of hope or of love, when m^' body shall die. 
For they're drawing my soul through the mists of the river 

To regions below and to realms in the sky. 



AT MORNING'S DAWN. 

The earth is filled with scenes of splendor rare 

At morning's dawn. 
And dews are gleaming with a transient glare 

Upon the lawn. 
The harp of nature sings in J03-0US strain, 
And lisping lips resound the soft refrain ; 
And ra3'S of hope shine through the balm}' air 

At morning's dawn. 

The splendors fade ; uncertain grows the sight 

When night comes on. 
Fair Hope has vanished 'neath the veil of night, 

To wait the dawn. 
And mournfully the dying music moans, 
And sunken lips respond in trembling -tones. 
And there are wrinkled brows and locks so white, 

When night comes on. 



MY LITTLE) SAILOR LOVl^R. 



Oh, when the dreamy autumn days 

Appear in mystic splendor, 
And in the gentle zephyr sways 

The g-olden rod, so slender, 
Then silent visions round my soul, 

Like seraphs softly hover. 
And tend'rest memories extol 

My little sailor lover. 

The ocean fumes, as though a fiend 

Rode on each raging- billow. 
Or, like an orchestra convened, 

Makes music, sweet and mellow. 
But when the winds around me roar. 

And when the storms are over. 
In vain I stand upon the shore 

And long to greet my lover. 

Oh, pleasant were the autumn eves. 

When breezes softly blowing, 
Swept from the boughs the golden leaves, 

Like angel's tresses glowing. 
And like the rarest music, rose 

A voice of true devotion ; 
As when the waves were in repose. 

We played upon the ocean. 

The dreamy heavens drew so near 
We heard the seraphs singing ; 

And on the crystal pavements clear, 
The cherubs' footsteps ringing. 

The fragrant freshness of the sea 
Was sweet as scented clover. 



56 A/V LITTLE SAILOR LOVER. 

And earth was paradise to me 
When with my sailor lover. 

But soon the cruel morning- came 

When parting- vows were spoken. 
My love was like a glowing flame, 

When, for a tender token. 
As heavily the path we trod, 

With fervent, fond caresses, 
He plucked a spray of goldenrod 

To shine among- my tresses. 

The sails were spread. I could not stay 

My passion's ceaseless burning. 
He bade me wear the golden spra}' 

To welcome his returning. 
And when the distance dimmed the sail, 

Oh, I could not but cover 
My burning brow, and wildly wail 

And mourn my sailor lover. 

I've waited many a weary morn 

My sailor love's returning*. 
I've waited long-, with heart forlorn, 

And still my soul is yearning. 
My joys, like leaves of autumn, shone 

A transient season only. 
Then like the boughs, when they were flown 

My soul was bare and lonely. 

My hopes fade like the yellow spray 

I wear in fond devotion. 
My love is lost ; who sailed away 

Across the cruel ocean. 
Still silent memories of yore 

Around my vision hover. 
And wearily I walk the shore 

And wait my sailor lover. 



THE LIGHTS OF THI) CITY. 



On what are they shining ? Those sparkles of lig"ht 

That g-limmer and g^leam through the darkness to-night. 

Some in rare splendor ; and some through the dark, 

Seem only a ray from the tiniest spark. 

Countless as stars in the calm, summer sky, 

Are those shimmeting specks, as the even rolls by. 

They shimmer and glimmer, 

They shimmer and shine, 
And in wonder I ask this sad spirit of mine : 
Oh, where do they glimmer ? On what do they shine ? 

Perchance some are shining from astrals of gold. 
On scenes that are joyous, and fair to behold. 
Shining in splendor in mansions sublime. 
On faces untouched by the pencil of time. 
Faces all glowing with innocent glee, 
Telling of souls that from sorrow are free. 

Glowing, nor knowing 

A cross or a care. 
Glowing with rapture so gladsome and rare ; 
Ne'er feeling the burdens that lowly ones bear. 

Some sparks faintly glimmer in hovels where sin 

In its heaven-cursed vileness is dwelling within. 

Shining on faces that only can tell 

Of shame and dishonor, that fitted for hell. 

Whose hearts are so hardened; whose souls are so staired, 

Their purest of pleasures will ne'er be regained. 

Nearing, nor fearing 

The horrors of hell, 
Nor seeking the shadows of sin to dispell. 
They follow the lost and in darkness shall dwell. 



58 THE LIGHTS OF THE CITY. 

« 
In 3'on stately mansion, where life is delig-ht, 
The sound of sweet music swells forth thro' the nig-ht. 
The purest of perfumes their odors shed throug"h 
The chamber, which soon in rare beauty shall view 
A youth and a maiden in innocent bow, 
And speak in their gladness, a sweet, solemn vow : 

Never — forever. 

The words soar above 
To the heavenly altar on wings like the dove. 
Never to leave, and forever to love. 

And soon shall the clink of the goblet resound 
'Mongst the wooers of pleasure assembled around. 
Ye pitying- spirits, give warning, I pray 
To the weak, trusting soul seeing naught but to-day. 
The soul that knows not, ere the seasons have flown, 
It may be a wanderer, weary and lone. 

Weeping, nor sleeping 

Nor knowing a rest. 
Cursing the viper whose string pierced its breast. 
Pleading for death, hoping then to be blest. 

Once in a mansion, as stately and fair 

As yon where the wines are so costly and rare, 

I vowed at the altar to love and obey. 

Of men the most handsome, most noble, most ga}'. 

Yet now in the darkness I wander instead. 

Seeking- for shelter and begging- for bread. 

Sighing, and crying 

With heart aching sore : 
"Oh, hasten the time earth will see me no more ; 
When my sin-wasted life will forever be o'er." 

And yet as I wearily roam through the night, 
And wonder where shines every glimmering- light, 
A faint ray of hope dimly burns in my breast. 
As I dream of a realm where the weary shall rest. 



O LOVE, THE GOLDEN SUMMER'S GONE. 59 

Wliere towering- mansions surround a white throne, 
Just beyond a thin veil, in the mystic unknown. 

And I ponder, and wonder 

If some distant day. 
My spirit, when worn from its shackles of clay. 
Shall view endless joys, 'neath a rare, deathless ray. 



O LOVE, THK GOLDKN SUMMl^R'S 
GONK. 

" O love, the g-olden summer's gone, 
And dreary winter's drawing- on 

So cold, so wild. 
And whither, whither can we g-o 
Where never falls the freezing- snow. 
And summer breezes ever blow 

All calm and mild. 

"Oh love, my love, it ling-ered long" — 
The summer with its caroled song- 

And flowers fair. 
And love was life and life was sweet. 
For earth and heaven seemed to meet 
Within our hearts, to g-ladly greet 

A love so rare." 

' ' Sweet heart, the dreary daj^s will come. 
And wintry winds may rage and fum^. 

And heats repine. 
But still our hearts no storms will know. 
And love within, though tempests blow, 
All golden with the summer's glow 

Shall ever shine." 



I LOVKD HER LONG AGO. 



I stood beside a humble grave to-day, 

And read upon the rudely chiseled stone, 
The name of her, who, in her bed of cla}^ 
In silence sleeps alone. 

My soul was filled with sorrow, as I read 

Those letters rude, and thoug-ht of her below. 
For I had known her ere my youth had fled. 
And loved her long- ag"o. 

My earliest dream of love, yet sweeter far 

Than manhood's sterner passions e'er could know. 
As summer's early roses sweeter are 

Than they that later blow. 

And as I gazed on that neg-lected spot 

Where they my early idol low had lain, 
My soul was filled with sadness, long- forg"ot, 
That racked it sore with pain. 

Ah, we had fondly loved, but Destiny 

With ruthless fing-ers tore our souls apart. 
And healing- balms, which then we did not see. 
Were sent to sooth each heart. 

Time, slow and weary, g-ently healed the wound ; 

Forg-otten was the one I used to know. 
But then, I knew beside her g^rassy mound, 
I loved her long- ag-o. 

However sweet the later love may seem. 

And thoug-h our earh' passions we forg-et. 
Still when we fondly muse on love's first dream, 
It seems far sweeter yet. 



ONE LITTLE FLOWER. 61 

And when 'tis done ; this life of toil and pain, 

And I in joy receive the summons low, 
I then shall see and love the one ag-ain 
I loved so lonsf asfo. 



ONK little: flowkr. 



One little flower is blooming- now, 

Ling-ering- there alone. 
Sorrow is resting" upon her brow, 

For all the rest are g-one. 
Ling-ering" there to lig-ht the g^loom, 
Silently shedding- a sweet perfume. 
While winter hovers around the tomb 

Of the friends, that all are flown. 



One little memory in my soul 

Shines with a lustrous bloom. 

And while the clouds of winter roll, 
Lig-htens its dreary g-loom. 

All the blossoms of hope are g-one. 

All the flowers of love are flown ; 

But one sweet memory blooms alone. 
Over their early tomb. 



MYRTLK MOORE). 



Behold the desert, sweet and wild, 
Where skies of summer softly smiled 
On scenes of blissful solitude 
As far as fallen man e'er viewed. 
Here soft the fragrant zephyr blows : 
Here in the silent shadows, flows 
A crystal stream ; whose endless lays 
The breezes burden with their praise. 
The thrush, in rapture from his tree, 
Pours forth his notes of melody ; 
The lily, robed in morning's rays, 
Her splendors silently displays. 
While odors, from her cup of snow. 
Like soothing- balm, incessant flow. 
Oh, ne'er was trod by earthly feet, 
A wilderness more wildly sweet. 

A shepherd, crowned with silver locks. 
Within this desert kept his flocks ; 
And in this peaceful spot there played 
In g-lad content, a shepherd maid. 
So true of heart, so fair of face, 
So full of nature's richest grace, 
So innocent, so pure and mild. 
Was Myrtle Moore, the shepherd's child. 
Oft to this spot the summer came 
And found it's splendors still the same. 
As year by year in gladness there 
The shepherd breathed the balmy air, 
And watched and loved the sweetest child 
On whom the summer ever smiled. 



MYRTLE MOORE. 63 

Another this abode had known, 
So mild and calm, but when alone 
Her spirit sought for realms more brig-ht. 
Her babe first viewed the morning- lig"ht, 
And each new morn would softly place 
A mark of love on form or face. 
Oh, with a worship firm and warm 
The shepherd loved that tender form. 

Years quickly sped, till she had g-rown 

A maiden, fair as lilies blown. 

Who loved the birds and bending- trees, 

The blooming- flowers and frag-rant breeze ; 

Who loved to linger by the stream 

And watch the g-lancing- waters g-leam ; 

To dream upon the mossy rocks, 

Or tend the shepherd's pensive flocks. 

To this retreat, one sunny day, 
A smiling- strang-er found his way ; 
Of noble form and pleasing- face. 
An easy mien and winning- g-race ; 
With words of luring- eloquence. 
He charmed those hearts of innocence. 
With softened speech he asked to stay, 
Till summer's heat had passed away. 
They bade him stay, if seeking- rest, 
And he became their welcome g-uest. 

And soon when morning-'s brig-htness shone. 
Sweet Myrtle played no more alone. 
When by the stream so softly flowing-, 
Or g-athering- flowers brig-htly g-lowing-, 
When caring- for the shepherd's flocks. 
Besides her stood, with luring looks ; 



64 . MYRTLE MOORE. 

An artful form ; whose ardent words 
Seemed sweeter than the song's of birds. 
And in her g-entle e3^es there shone 
The first sweet love her heart had known. 

'Twas passing- sweet, a season brief, 
E're all her gladness turned to grief ; 
As, musing by the murmuring stream, 
She heeded not the morning's gleam. 
Saw not the flowers or verdant trees. 
Heard not the birds or sighing breeze ; 
Forgot that form with silver locks. 
Remembered not his straying flocks ; 
But only saw, with artless eye. 
The smiling stranger ever nigh, 
And heard but mellow tones to move 
Her trusting soul to ardent love. 
'Twas passing sweet, a transient while, 
To bask beneath that sunny smile. 

But ah, no angel came to warn 
The guileless maid one dreamy morn. 
Her trusting heart beheld no trace 
Of luring love in his embrace. 
With tender touch, and words of love. 
With empty vows he ceaseless strove 
Until her helpless, yearning soul. 
Benumbed with love, knew no control. 
Her brow and snowy bosom showed 
A blush of innocence, that glowed 
While he, with passion unsuppressed. 
Her rarest gem plucked from her breast. 
When he unclasped her clinging arms. 
And viewed her bosom's secret charms. 
Upon its whiteness, virtue's flame 
Glowed in a blush of modest shame. 



MYRTLE MOORE. 65 

And warmer far than e'er before, 
Now burned the love of Myrtle Moore. 

Condemn her not, ye firmer maid, 

Who ne'er from virture's path has strayed. 

Her helpless soul had no defence 

'Gainst trust, and love, and innocence. 

Accursed who for worldly g-ain 

Would fill a soul with endless pain ! 

Accursed who would spill the blood 

Of mortal man in idle feud ! 

•But thrice accursed who would wrest 

The priceless pearl from one pure breast ! 

The summer passed, while stronger grew 
The love he needed not to woo. 
And soon the parting daj^ had come, 
When he should leave the shepherd's home. 
He gave him gold ; and, to his child 
Unmeaning promises, that filled 
Her soul with longing, sweet and sad; 
Then went remorseless, tlio' he had 
Beguiled a soul and left it lie 
To wither, fade away and die. 

The seasons sped, till verdant spring- 
Came on the southwind's welcome wing-. 
But to the heart of Myrtle Moore 
No healing balm of joy it bore ; 
No tidings from the one who stole 
Her loving heart, her trusting soul. 
With spirit sore, from day to day 
The shepherd watched her fade away. 
As, when the lily longs for dew, 
Her scented sweetness to renew. 
And nods beneath a scorching sky, 



66 MYRTLE MOORE. 

■ And droops and falls, to fade and die, 
So 'neath the skies of fervent heat 
Her love had made, she long-ed to g"reet 
Ag-ain the form, whose love would fill 
Her parched soul with sweetness still. 

One frag-rant morning, fresh and mild, 
The shepherd soug-ht his wand'ring" child. 
When nigfht her mystic shades spread o'er 
The dewy land, she left his door, 
And, 'neath the starry, summer sky 
In ang-uish wandered forth to die. 
When morning- rose in robes of g"old. 
He found her lying, calm and cold, 
With ripling" waters flowing- o'er 
A heart that ne'er would suffer more. 
The lilies, bending" o'er her brow, 
Seemed blushing" for the shame she knew. 
And soug"ht to hide beneath their g"low. 
That brow and breast of spotless snow. 

O, pity him who mourns above 

The silent form in hopeless love ! 

Lament for virtue, white and sweet, 

Downtroden 'neath unholy feet. 

And weep for innocence beguiled ; 

For Myrtle Moore, the shepherd's child. 



A SUMMKR MEMORY. 



One g-olden memory 

My soul has sweetly cherished ; 
A scene of ecstacy. 

A phantom hope, that perished 
With youth and love, for they are flown ; 
But hidden in my heart alone 

It shall be ever nourished. 

A blissful eve in June, 

With frag-rant breezes blowing- ; 
A hazy, mellow moon 

Thro' white clouds softly g-lowing- ; 
The roses with their crimson g-leam, 
The music of a murm'ring- stream. 

So sweetly, softly flowing-. 

And then, a face so fair 

That all the silv'ry splendor 

Of earth seemed resting- there ; 

With blue eyes, soft and tender. 

And sunny curls. It seemed to one 

That all the lig-ht of heaven shone 
Around that form, so slender. 

Soft whispering-s of love. 

Two hearts in rapture quiver ; 

A g-limpse of realms above ; 

'Tis gone ! returning- never. 

O, frag-rant June with roses rare, 

O, hopeful youth with fancies fair, 
Thou art no more forever. 



the: music in my soul. 



There's a mellow strain of music ever sounding- in m}- 

soul, 
Like a solemn admonition; never ending- 
While the chariots of life along their mystic courses roll; 
Tones of wrath and tones of rapture, ever blending 
Into chords of tender melody that melt resistance 

through, 
With their wild, relentless passion, naught has power to 

subdue. 



Ever sounding, never silent ; thro' the darkness, thro' 
the day 

Is that weird and dulcet warning ever ringing. 

And my helpless soul surrenders to it's stern, resistless 
swa}'. 

As when sirens songs of wildest love are singing. 

Hopeless, helpless as the pebbles where the highest bil- 
lows roll ; 

For my languid life keeps measure to the music in my 
soul. 

In my life's enraptured morning 'twas a merry, tender 

tone. 
Like the tinkle of a tiny streamlet, flowing 
Through a little grassy hollow, where the glistening- 
pebbles shone ; 
And the carol-burdened breezes softly blowing. 
And their merry music blended in an air of sweetest joy. 
While my careless life responded, void of reason to an- 
noy. 



THE MUSIC IN MY SOUL. 69 

Seasons passed ; and lo, the melody was filled with 
mournful tones ; 

As the autumn winds that thro' the nig-htare screaming", 

While the naked branches shudder at the melancholy 
moans, 

Like the sound of long--departed voices seeming-. 

Shrieking- throug-h the .trembling- shutters ; rushing- 
round the ra,tling- pane ; 

And it's mournful notes were mingled in a musical re- 
frain. 

Then I followed, sad and lonel}^ where the mj^stic music 

led, 
Till I ling-ered by a loving- form, reclining- 
Pale and calm, in shrowd and cof&n, while the crowd 

with silent tread. 
Passed and paused to view the silver tresses, shining- 
O'er the brow so deeply furrowed by the tender hand of 

time ; 
And the music ! Oh, the music ! How it swelled with 

mournful chime ! 

Long those notes of sadness sounded, while I wandered 
weak and lone. 

Thro' the deepest gloom my rug-g-ed path surrounding. 

Then the music softly melted till it struck a milder tone 

And dispelled the g-loom before it's soft resounding-. 

Only for a transient season swelled that calm and sooth- 
ing- chord ; 

Only for a transient season was my peaceful life restored. 

Then there rose a strain within me like a mig^hty sound 

subdued ; 
As the rushing of a wild and rapid river ; 
And the echo of the thunder, and the tempest in the 

wood, 
And the waves that make their rock}^ towers quiver. 



70 THE MUSIC IN MY SOUL. 

All were ming-led in the melody within my trembling- 
soul, 

And it yielded, weak and helples, to it's truculent con- 
trol.' 

And it bore me, vainly striving", into passions vile abode, 

As a bough is borne upon the ocean's billow. 

And it held me with the shameless, and it drew me in 
the road 

Of the cursed, with it's notes subdued and mellow. 

Long- it led me through the mire of a dark and deathless 
shame. 

And I fell and wallowed hopeless, till the chord of rap- 
ture came. 



How I barkened when it melted to that soft and sooth- 
ing strain, 

Low and sweet as when the cherubim are singing- ! 

How I barkened when it blended in that mystical re- 
frain. 

With the rarest notes of rapture wildl}- ringing. 

As the golden harp of nature full of garnered sweetness 
rings. 

When the softness winds of summer gently sweep the 
chorded strinars. 



Eagerly I rose and followed, all forgetful of m}- shame. 
And my soul was bathed in such a golden splendor. 
That I sought in joy and wonder for the source of that 

bright flame ; 
As the music led where heaven could not hinder. 
Lo, I found it in a countenance as fair as falling snow. 
Whose soft eyes outshone the azure of the heavens with 

their glow. 



THE MUSIC IN MY SOUL. 71 

Oh, the wildly sweet delirium that thrilled me throug-h 

and throug-h, 
As those lustrous orbs with fervent love o'er flowing", 
Looked so timidly and tenderly from limpid depths of 

blue, 
Into eyes with fires of love immortal g-lowing". 
Oh, the fervor of our passions ! Oh, the rapture wild 

and rare. 
As closer drew our souls, responsive to that soft and 

mystic air. 

Nearer, nearer drew our spirits ; ever softer rose the 

strain, 
While our hearts with joy unf athom'ble were swelling-. 
Richer, sweeter g-rew our rapture, till our souls could 

scarce contain 
The delirium of love within them dwelling-. 
And I wondered if the g-lowing- forms before the g-olden 

throne. 
E'en the briefest taste of happiness, like ours, had ever 

known. 

As when one, oblivious of life, doth roam the realm of 

dreams. 
Thro' transcendent scenes his wondering way pursuing- ; 
And it's splendor to his sig-ht, each moment more efful- 

g-ent seems, 
Till with swelling- heart, transported with his viewing-. 
Slow he nears the crowning- scene, where lies supremac}^ 

of bliss. 
To a magic strain of music full of love and tendernes;>. 

So we neared the heig-ht of rapture as our spirits closer 

drew. 
And the softened strain our ardent souls had followed, 



72 THE MUSIC IN MY SOUL. 

Melted now to g-olden tinkling-s ; and our jo}^ burst forth 

anew 
At the sound of marriag-e bells so sweetly mellowed. 
Softer, milder every moment beamed her eyes of melting- 

lig-ht. 
More alluring" grew her spotless charms upon my dazzled 

sig"ht. 

Nearer drew that bliss of blisses, when m}^ burning- soul 
should blend 
• Into hers, whose whiteness shamed the light of morn- 
ing-. 

And the music of the marriag-e-bells, ah, who could com- 
prehend 

All it's sweetness ! till there came a note of warning-. 

Low and softly in my soul did that first warning- note 
resound, 

Low and faint, but Gods immortal ! how I shuddered at 
the sound ! 

How I trembled ! while my quaking- soul g-rew weak 
with hopeless dread. 

As the g-olden tinkling-s, from my bosom welling-. 

Fainter g-rew and ever fainter, till my spirit heard in- 
stead. 

But that awful sound relentless, slowly swelling-. 

And it's power and it's passion, earth and hell had not 
withstood, 

For once more my soul was trembling with those mig-hty 
sounds subdued. 

How I strove ! Gods, how I struggled, as the music's 
ruthless will, 

Slowly drew me from the form so fair and tender ! 

Rending-, tearing-, from her soul so white, my striving- 
soul, until 

It had 3-ielded, knowing naug-ht it's sway could hinder. 



THE MUSIC IN MY SOUL. 73 

Oh, the looks of pleading- tenderness within those orbs 

of lig'ht, 
As with bleeding- soul I followed to the darkest depths of 

nig-ht. 

And the hands that wildly beckoned, as the snowy 

bosom swelled 
With an awful ang-uish, hopeless and despairing- ; 
And the lips that mutely quivered ; all their speech of 

music quelled ; 
With the pleading- eyes, appealing and imploring-, 
Soug-ht in vain to hold and hinder from it's dark and 

hellish g-oal, 
For my lang-uid life kept measure to the music in my 

soul. 

In the nig-ht of shame it held me darkly hidden from her 

view, 
All the rag-ings of my feeble will defying-. 
Till it drew me with a tuneful air of soul-destroying woe. 
Like the mourning pines to summer breezes sig-hing-, 
Once ag-ain to view her form, but oh, how silent did it 

seem ! 
Pale and silent ; pale and silent ; 'neath a flowing-, crys- 
tal stream. 

Oh, that mystic strain of music, with its stern, remorse- 
less swell ! 

Leading- where my life must follow, never ceasing- ; 

Through the fairest realms of heaven to the darkest 
depths of hell, 

While I strive in vain to rend it's bonds oppressing-. 

Still is sounding-, sweetly sounding- with a tyranous con- 
trol ; 

And my hopeless life keeps measure to the music in my 
soul. 



MY LITTLE ONE. 



They have taken my little one, 
And left me in tears alone. 

The wild winds blow 

The silvery snow, 
And mutter and shriek and moan. 
And my soul replies with its bitter sig-hs 

For the little one that's g-one. 

In a little white hearse to-day, 
They carried my babe away. 

And m}' soul bled so 

As they laid it low 
In the damp and dismal clay. 
It was so fair, but I left it there, 

And my stricken heart, to stay. 

My little one's cold to-nig-ht, 
Out under the snow so brig-ht. 

That tender brow 

Is frozen now, 
And the little hands, soft and white. 
And its head of gold is cold, so cold, 

Under the snow to-night. 

The night is so drear and lone. 
And the light of my day is g-one. 

The wild winds blow 

The g-listening- snow. 
And their sig-hs blend with m3- own. 
And my soul will wait all desolate, 

To follow my little one. 



A MYSTIC STRAIN. 



The lig"hts were shedding- a luster o'er 

The radiant, careless throng-, 
And the merry sound of the music, round 

Was echoing clear and strong. 
And hearts were light as a lark's that night. 

When it warbles its summer song. 

Many a time had I listened there 

To the music, that softly fell, 
And many a time I had heard the air 

Of the tunes I loved so well. 
And listened, in vain, for a lost, sweet strain 

That ne'er on my ear would swell. 

But that g-lad night as I sat and yearned 

A long lost form to greet, 
I heard the strain of that old song plain ; 

So mellow and sad and sweet, 
And it came so low and it thrilled me so, 

That my heart nigh ceased to beat. 

For it carried me back with the speed of light 

To a room, with a snowy bed. 
To see on the pillow a face so white. 

And a beautiful golden head. 
And near it a form, all soft and warm, 

That was so little and red. 

And then, as I stood in that silent room 
With the one that was lying there. 

My mind rushed back through the years of gloom, 
To scenes that were sweet and fair ; 

When her heart was light who was d34ng to-night, 
And pure as our love was rare. 



76 A MYSTIC STRAIN. 

And the one sweet song- that she used to sing- ; 

How it swelled like a silver chime ! 
And her voice, so mellow and rich would ring-, 

As she sang- in the olden time ; 
And the winds would moan when her song- was done, 

And sig-h to the frag-rant lime. 

And I loved her ; oh, there was never a love 

So happy and sweet as mine. 
And I would have sworn no soul above 

More white than her soul could shine. 
And our hearts were lig-ht, and our lives were bright 

With a joy that seemed divine. 

But there came a morning- when I must leave 

My love for a season drear, 
And oh, how sadly our souls did g-rieve ! 

And dark did the day appear. 
And heaven, it seemed, no long-er g-leamed 

With a blessed smile to cheer. 

But the kiss of her lips so soft and warm, 

With her cheek pressed to m}'^ own. 
All wet with tears, and the fluttering- form ; 

The white arms round me thrown, 
And that song so low, as I turned to g-o, 

Were sweeter that earth had known. 

But who could tell ere the year had g-one. 

That tidings would come, too true. 
That she had fallen ; my beautiful one, 

1 had thought as pure as snow. 
And my heart, once g'lad, was heavy and sad 

With ang-uish and endless woe. 



A MYSTIC STRAIN, 77 

The days drag-g^ed on, and my soul was wild 

With sorrow's relentless sway, 
As I thoug-ht of the one who was undefiled 

When I left her alone that day. 
Then there came the strain of that song ag-ain, 

And I could not stay away. 

I found her there on her couch, all cold 

And pale as the snowy sheet. 
In her eyes no lig-ht ; and her breast, so white, 

Forever had ceased to beat. 
And the babe that was born that desolate morn, 

Cried low, with a pitiful bleat. 

I clasped her close as in days long- g^one, 

And I kissed her lips, so chill. 
But just as I pressed her bare, cold breast 

There came to my soul a thrill. 
And I heard that strain ; and it told me plain 

That her soul was spotless still. 

And scorning the little one lying- there. 

And all that the people told, 
I could have sworn, since I left that morn 

Her soul had been pure as gold ; 
With never a blight, it was still as white 

As it was in the days of old. 

And why it was I could never explain ; 

Only this thing I knew. 
That heaven whispered in that low strain, 

She was pure as the morning dew. 
Whispered it low, and I could but know 
, That message from heaven was true. 



78 WHEN LOVE SHONE IN. 

And whenever the sound of music falls 
On my eag^er, barkening" ear, 

I listen still for a strain to swell, 

That m}' heart so long's to hear ; 

To whisper low, as the sweet sounds How, 
That her soul was pure and clear. 



WHEN LOVE SHONK IN. 



My soul was dim with shades of night, 

Kre love was known. 
And heaven's g"lories and her ligfht 

Full darkly shone. 
It heard no music in the breeze, 
Nor saw in vales nor verdant trees, 
Nor earth nor heaven, aug"ht to please. 

Ere love was known. 



My soul was filled with luster rare 
When love shone in. 

Hope, love and heaven, now so fair. 
Seemed all akin. 

Then radiant earth's g-lories g"rew, 

And heaven's splendors nearer drew ; 

And fair life's pathway was to view, 
When love shone in. 



A MONUMENT. 



I ask not, when on earth I'm seen no more, 

The dark tomb hiding- from all men my face, 
A costly pillar, proudly tow'ring- o'er. 

To mark my resting- place. 

I do not ask that mig"hty men may say. 

As passing- hastily they read the name 
Above this form, that's mould'ring- fast away, 

" He won g-reat worldly fame." 

The honors that I crave when I am g'one, 

Are, that some lowly one may sadly say, 
" When I was wand'ring- wearily alone. 

He helped me on my way," 

A tear of g^ratitude is what I crave, 

To fall upon the clover or the snow 
Above me, and sad voices by my g-rave 

To say, " We love him so !" 

A marble slab, placed there by loving" hands ; 

One whose white surface will the words display. 
While silently above my g-rave it stands, 

" He helped us on our way." 



THK POND-LILY. 



O, beautiful lily, in splendor arrayed, 

As fair as the lig-ht of the morning', 
Still blooming- in triumph in sunshine or shade, 

And all the dark waters adorning", 

Thy petals are bright as the rays of the light 
Which doyv^n by the waters are stealing, 

And shining- upon thee, so spotless and white, 
Thy charms and thy beauty revealing". 

Though growing in places so drear and so dark. 

With foulness around thee appearing, 
Thou art free from impurities ever ; no spark 

From the fires of foulness, adhering. 

O, sweet is thy perfume by calm zephyrs caught 

And borne to give joy to the weary ; 
Thou art fragrant alway in the night or the day, 

When the summer is lightsome or drear3^ 

Oh, could I but live as the lil}^ so pure. 

And in my life's earnest endeavor, 
The scorn and the scoffs of the evil endure, 

And yet keep my soul spotless ever. 

And when in dark places of sin aud despair. 
Could I, while on earth I'm sojourning". 

Keep the sparks which impart sin and grief to my heart, 
Out of fires of foulness, from burning. 

Could I shed the sweet perfume of love thro' the world, 

Keeping ever my Master before me. 
And my soul free from blight, as the lily, so white, 

With the lig-ht of his countenance o'er me. 



